


Whose Bed Is It Anyway?

by lost_spook



Category: Adam Adamant Lives!, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Crossover, Ficlet, Gen, Humor, Random Pairing Generator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 12:17:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4179555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_spook/pseuds/lost_spook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last thing Georgie wants at the end of an adventure is to find some strange bloke in her bed, but apparently that's what she's getting tonight...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whose Bed Is It Anyway?

**Author's Note:**

> Written from this[Unconventional Courtship Pairing Generator](http://www.seasip.info/Misc/ucrpg.html)summary:
> 
> _329) Whose Bed Is It Anyway? - Natalie Anderson_
> 
> _'You’re wearing my T-shirt.'  
>  Returning home after a daring rescue mission, all Georgina Jones can think of is sleep. So she’s furious to find a handsome stranger curled up in her king-size bed! Normally no man ever gets between her sheets without prior invitation—who does he think he is?  
> Disgraced celebrity Mike Yates has been offered a place to stay and he won’t give it up—not with the paparazzi outside, baying for his blood! Reluctantly he agrees to share the apartment with Georgie — but,with enough electricity to short-circuit the whole of Manhattan, keeping to their own sides of the bed might prove impossible.…_

Nobody loved adventures more than Georgina Jones, but once she returned to her flat, she expected at least the chance to grab some food and get a good night’s sleep. She’d been really looking forward to it, especially after Mr Adamant had abandoned her at the scene of the crime on cleaning duties and without even any sandwiches or a ticket home.

What she hadn’t expected was to find some bloke in army uniform conked out on her bed. Or at least, he was half in army uniform. He had the khaki coloured trousers and the cap was beside him on the floor, but on the top he was wearing what looked like one of her t-shirts. That, she thought, was the outsize in cheek from an intruder. He’d probably have stretched it and she’d got it from a groovy little stall down Portobello Road. It was irreplaceable! Even if Mr Adamant said that looking at it gave him a headache. 

“Hey,” said Georgie, walking over, too angry to worry about anything else. She was beginning to think she knew how the three bears must have felt when they discovered Goldilocks wolfing down their porridge. “You’ve got the wrong apartment, you know. You’d better wake up now and scram! And you can take my clothes off, too!”

He stirred and then sat up in confusion.

Georgie reflected on her previous sentence. “I mean, take off that top of mine that you’re wearing –” She cut herself short as she took in his appearance and found that she recognised him from the newspaper she’d been reading on the train on the way back. (She’d had to beg her fare home, too. Sometimes Mr Adamant was very unfair.)

“Hey,” said Georgie in a different tone, raising her hands to her mouth to cover her surprise and glee. “ _Hey_ , aren’t you that guy, the one that –?”

“Mike Yates,” he said. “And yes. No. No! Cover story gone horribly wrong as a matter of fact. Look, sorry about this – I had to hide from all the reporters and the rest of them somewhere, and this place happened to be handy and empty.”

Georgina sat on the end of the bed with a bounce, all her annoyance forgotten now that another mystery beckoned. “You’re in some kind of trouble?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“The sort with deadly peril and villains at your heels?”

“It is rather. I’m sorry. Obviously, I can’t stay here now that you’re back. Just point me to a handy back door or something.”

Georgie raised an eyebrow. “Hang on before you go charging off – I can help!”

“You?”

She glared. “Oh, don’t you start! As it happens, I know someone who's great with deadly peril. It’s his favourite thing.” She paused and wrinkled her nose in thought. “Well, actually, he says that his favourite thing is listening to dreary music and reading a book, but I don’t believe him. I’m not too dusty at mystery solving myself, either. I’ll give him a ring, shall I?”

“I – er – Miss –?”

“Georgina Jones,” she said, reaching for the telephone. Once the exchange had put her through, she got herself comfortable and prepared to tell Adam about the stranger. “Oh, Mr Adamant. It’s Georgie. You’ll never guess what’s happened, but when I got home I found this soldier in my bed and –” She paused, waiting for a reaction that didn’t come. “Mr Adamant? Adam?” 

Whoops, she thought, and hoped the shock hadn’t killed him.


End file.
